Breathe
by Hack.Drawer
Summary: In which Law is haunted by a ghost that grins in the night


_**\- Breathe -**_

* * *

There was a smell – a weird, rotting smell that wafted up from the shadows and seemed to curl around his limbs like cold fingers. It woke him out of a dead sleep, sometimes, and Law wasn't exactly sure why. Once the smell hit him, he would fully awaken; sitting up in bed, he rubbed his face with cold hands, his mind blurry with static. But once he caught that smell, his nose would wrinkle and he'd give a couple of sniffs – looking around his heavily shadowed room with all the familiar shapes slowly giving away their substance, he wondered what that smell was.

It wasn't exactly a dead smell – he knew what that particular scent was – but a sort of ashy, thick on the tongue smell that had vague traces of sweetness to it, along with something that resembled cologne.

Sometimes he'd cough, trying to expel it from the back of his throat or from his tongue, but nothing would come out. He'd sit there, puzzled about it, until finally falling back asleep. Sometimes he wouldn't remember waking up because it of; sometimes he did. And that taste would linger on his tongue until he forgot about it all over again.

Because it wasn't that big of a trouble, he'd never look over the bed. For if he had, he'd see the cause of it laying there – big hands crossed over a big chest, a bright grin revealing uneven and misshapen teeth penetrating the darkness. The shadow would lay there, still and thick, the smell of death curling away from it like waving hands searching for a ledge to cling to.

One morning, Law woke up with a start – his breath simply stopped in his chest, and his eyes snapped open. He was in a state of alarm, and he had no idea why. But every one of his limbs were frozen and locked solid in place – hands buried underneath his pillow and his ankles crossed. The shadows of his room revealed their shapes slowly, but his heart was racing heavily with a pounding tremble to it that made hearing difficult. He stared out at the darkness, the smell wafting over him like a blanket; it coated his tongue and dirtied his teeth, and the moment his heartbeat began to quicken, he grew aware of the faintest of breaths behind him.

The terror he felt was nothing to encourage his Fight instincts – all he could do was lay there, frozen, unwilling to move a limb in order to move away from the lurching presence behind him. It prickled his skin, caused his hairs to stand straight up and for his blood to run cold.

Something was there.

Something was behind him.

Something dead and terrifying – the cause of the smell. His eyes widened and his throat tightened as the breathing began to grow more confident. It was the panting of a man that held his mouth open, expelling air that Law could feel on the back of his neck. The sound grew louder until silencing with an audible clack of teeth on teeth.

Law couldn't move. But the bed shifted with new weight, and it vibrated ever so slightly as the presence moved away. The dead silence was a new terror – _where did it go_? What was it? Law continued to lie there, feeling his face fill with dread. His eyes shifted to the corner, and he dreaded seeing whatever it was that was breathing upon him, but he needed to _know_.

What was it?

_Something_ brushed over his ankles, and he moved then. He kicked the blankets away and was on his feet, stumbling away from the bed. The floor rattled with metallic effort under his moving weight. The nightstand rattled noisily as he hit it with his hip, and in his panic, he heard the hiss of breath from another person from the other side of the bed. It was full of weight and presence, and he scrambled to turn on the lamp, the lightbulb illuminating the room hastily. He was sweating, his eyes unblinking as they touched on various surfaces of his room, looking for the person that was in there with him. With some hesitation, he ventured around his bed.

He found nothing. The platform of which the mattress sat was high enough for him to look under comfortably, providing him with an uninterrupted view of the other side of his room. He was alone, again, and thought his heart was racing madly, he could swear he could hear the thing breathing.

The smell hit him again. He remembered that smell, remembered waking up to it numerous times through various nights, and he inhaled of it long and slow. His mind was sluggish to identify it, but it was something he _remembered_.

Not a dead smell. But a rotting scent of something he couldn't place.

It was silent in his room, allowing Law to think that he'd been captured in some airless, sound trapping environment that felt like a cage. Not like the Polar Tang's usual environment, but a different one that felt like a slow question. Every one of his muscles felt weak in a sense, as if they'd atrophied for some time, and so it was difficult to rise to his feet. But he wiped his face with one shaking hand and struggled to remember every detail of the event that frightened him.

Somehow, he returned to his bed. He kept the light on for the reminder of the night. He faced the sloped ceiling with his hands atop of his stomach, eyes dry and alert as he waited for either sound or sight to catch his attention. Whatever it was…it had been here for some time.

He didn't believe in ghosts. He didn't believe in the supernatural.

But whatever this was…it was that.

: :

"I am here now."

The voice was startling clear and strong, said against his ear. Law's eyes shot open as he inhaled deeply with surprise, instinctively breathing in that rotten smell he'd grown terrorized by. Coughing noisily, he sat up with a start, looking over his shoulder with a wild sort of expectation of seeing someone sitting atop of his bed with him. But the soft glow of the lamp nearby showed him that he was alone. Heart thumping noisily against his ribs, he took in the sight of his empty room. The shadows weren't as threatening, but their shapes allowed him to see that he was safe.

The hum of the submarine's movement was constant, so it was a distant background noise. The stifling, recycled air was nothing compared to this stench – everything familiar was nothing comparable to the new situation unfolding in front of him.

The voice could have been the remnants of a bad dream. Law wasn't sure, now that he was wide awake. With a plaintive touch to his own chest, he sought to calm the wild beat of his heart, mind whirling with wakening thoughts. He closed his eyes, the voice fading away to the back of his mind, where he could no longer identify the tone of the voice or its contents.

Surely stress was messing with him – or the suffocating effects of lingering depression. He was not the type of man to just hear things – his imagination wasn't that big, either. He swallowed tightly, tasting that foul stench at the back of his throat. He reached for the lukewarm water sitting in the glass nearby and took a tentative sip of it, eyes coasting the various surfaces of his room furniture for a distraction.

He was a grown man, yet he had grown afraid of the dark. This lingering thing, whatever it was, had left him unable to sleep as deeply as he used to. Surely someone was playing tricks on him. A rather mean-spirited prank. He set the cup aside, adjusting his blankets around himself and resettling against his pillows. Folding his arms atop of them, he stared up at the ceiling. The lamp light was a distraction – how could one sleep with light so close to their vision? His eyelids slowly closed, but the glow was apparent as he did so. Irritation caused his forehead to furrow as he exhaled again, pushing air through his nostrils that left a heavy impression in the silence. The room was deathly silent once more – the air unmoving. It felt like a cage; sound-proof and unforgiving. It was unnerving not to hear anyone else nearby.

He opened his eyes once more, only to see the shape of a head lower itself quickly to the edge of his bed. With a start, he sat up wildly, crawling over to peer down at the floor below. Seeing nothing there, he threw himself to the floor and looked underneath – all of his Fight instincts were activated, and his fingernails dug into the floor as he gripped it.

There was nothing there, and his blankets pooled around his legs impatiently, fluttering to the floor. His eyes darted here and there before he shoved himself up into a seated position and stared around himself. His heart was racing wildly.

He knew what he'd seen.

It was a head – a _shadowed_ head. Maybe not with the features of someone he recognized – maybe not from this world – but it was a _head_.

With a mouthful of uneven, misshaped teeth. _That was it_. That was their only features. Everything else was just shadow.

Heart in his throat, he rose from the floor, clumsily untangling his feet from his blankets. He wasn't sure _what_ he saw, because he didn't believe in ghosts. He didn't believe in ghost stories or the supernatural, but _he saw what he thought he saw_.

He left his room, feeling weak in the knees and cluttered in his thoughts.

: :

Having had enough of the weird events in his room, he decided on the couch in the main cabin the next night.

_I'm not scared of the dark_, he told himself sternly as he adjusted the throw blanket around his waist and thighs. _I'm not afraid of ghosts._

But it felt important to take a break from that room to take comfort in a place that felt safe. He could sleep with the lights off in here, and felt no danger in allowing his feet to dangle off the armrests. With an arm tossed over his face, he fell into an easy sleep.

Chaotic images shifted around without weight in his dreams – nothing he could remember waking up. But only one voice seemed to create a crevice from image to sound. It was tinny and robotic, like a distorted voice emerging from a child's toy. "_I found you_."

Law lifted his head, and realized he _had_ to be dreaming because the entire room was encased within total darkness – no shadows of shapes, no familiar beginnings or ends, no sense of gravity or weight. Everything about it had a dreamlike quality – the air putrid with that heavy stench. There was a thundering sound in the distance that grew louder until he realized it was his own heart starting to race with panic. He sat up with a start.

The sound of his heart racing grew quieter in comparison to the sound of heavy breathing, and though his lungs panicked with proper intake, he realized it wasn't his own. Something caused his skin to twitch with fear. He turned his head as his feet pulled away from the couch's armrest, just in time to see those misshapen teeth grinning at him from the floor. He scrambled away from it with a wild cry of surprise, the shadow rising with him.

Just as he'd registered the shape and matter of those teeth, two eyes opened slowly to reveal stark white orbs without irises. The thing stood taller, seemingly filling the entire room with its mass. The grin seemed to tilt higher at the corners as air escaped those clenched teeth with a mirthful hiss of a chuckle.

Law crashed over the couch and hit the floor in a tangle of limbs and blanket, whirling onto his back to face the thing that stunk like a rotting _something_. Only he wasn't looking at the shadow anymore – the room was faintly lit with blooming lights along the walls, and he wasn't alone.

"You okay?"

Catching his breath, he stared up at the puzzled faces of his crew as they sleepily looked down at him – either in their pajamas or dressed for the day. Panic muddled his thoughts and clumsily held his tongue. Law glanced around himself once more, absolutely sure that what he'd seen was real.

"Yeah," he managed to utter, his voice thick with sleep – his throat felt sore. He had to clear it, kicking away from the blanket with legs that felt like lead. He ended up laying there on his back, heart racing with faint embarrassment. His crew continued to stare at him in silence, glancing at each other; too hesitant to ask or say anything as he pulled his panicked mind together to assure himself that he was fully _awake_.

"Just had a bad dream," he managed to say moments later.

: :

_I'm not afraid of the dark_, Law told himself sternly as chaotic thoughts plagued him throughout the day. Coffee held in both hands, he sat, slouched, against the wall while the voices of his crew flittered cheerfully around him. His face felt like stone. Everything felt like stone – depleted and useless. His thoughts were in a chaotic mess, but he continued to assure himself that nothing was wrong.

_Stress, stress, stress_, he convinced himself. _It's the stress monster at my back_.

In no way did the vague shape that haunted him look like anyone he knew – or known. That grin, those uneven teeth – those eyes that revealed nothing…it was a nameless corpse of some kind, some sort of heavy reminder of some past deed. Or perhaps it was some sort of premonition?

It wasn't a ghost because he didn't believe in ghosts. He clenched his back molars, staring out pensively with his eyes squinting tightly underneath the brim of his hat at the others while his fingers tightened on his coffee mug. There was a logical explanation to all of this – he just had yet to figure it out. An enemy, perhaps. Or maybe something new and unexplained down here in the ocean depths. Some type of weird creature that had yet to be classified and recorded. Something that was capable of destroying ships from the inside by attacking its captain's psyche.

He gave the grim order to hit the surface, much to the confusion of the crew, but they did so happily once he took a sip of his coffee.

The sun was bright and inviting – the air cool enough to prevent overheating and the cry of sea gulls indicative of nearby land. Taking his usual spot near the sleeping bear, Law sat against the bear Mink and exhaled slowly while he stared out at the seemingly never-ending horizon. Lips tight, he folded his hands atop of his stomach while fishing rods were pulled out and distributed, and bets exchanged. Closing his eyes, he intended on taking a much-needed nap, feeling the relief of his heavy eyelids as his mind cried out with respite from the constantly churning thoughts he'd been having.

With the activity faintly continuing on just outside the reach of his conscious, he slept with snores at his back. The laughter, jeers, and sounds of seagulls moved on like background noise just outside of a quiet room. His body twitched as it fell under, and his fingers tightened together over his stomach. But as he continued to hover over wakefulness and unconsciousness, he became aware of a sound that didn't fit in with the rest.

It caused him to lift his head.

He was in the dreamworld once more, because while the sounds continued on around him, there was the hazy heaviness of walls that prevented him from looking side to side. All he could see was forward – into a sea undefined by lines or shape.

_Sleep paralysis_, he assumed with great relief. _The mind is awake while the body is asleep_.

And yet…

That sound continued to creep through his crew's voices like a literal snake in the grass. He wasn't sure what it was. A slow hissing sound that seemed to grow in volume as it neared him. He wanted to turn his head from side to side to see where it was coming from, but he couldn't turn his head in this dream.

_Sleep paralysis_, he told himself firmly.

Yet it felt like a new shackle – he couldn't move, and that sound was drawing closer. So he began to panic. His breath tightened and quickened, and his body twitched and jerked as he sought to wake himself up. The presence that was drawing closer felt ominous and heavy, threatening, and yet he couldn't move himself to see it. Panic caused his throat to tighten as that rotten smell began to penetrate the haze. His ears started to buzz with slow moving quality that made him think there were bees approaching him – growing in volume because they were growing closer to him.

His body wouldn't obey him to move, but as his ears attuned to the sound of heavy buzzing, he realized that it wasn't exactly bees. They were words.

"Hello HELLO_hElLo_helloHELlo hello _hello_," were the words crammed together by different voices in one breath.

This caused him pause – surely it wasn't that big of a threat. It was a combination of past horrors coming back to him to continue irritating him while his stress monster kept him up at nights and haunted him during the day. He could recognize some of collected voices, but why did his body continue to tense up as those voices continued to draw nearer?

His mind began to panic because there was a threat. He couldn't wake up. He couldn't move to see, he couldn't speak – yet his crew was so close by, surely one of them would do something if he were in danger….

He heard his own breath quicken – his jaw tightening with tension as he struggled to open eyes that refused to open. The buzzing grew closer to him, and his skin seemed to shiver, flash with heat at an incoming presence. His ears were filled with the volume, and his neck tightened with effort.

_Someone wake me up_, he thought desperately. _Wake me up_! Wake me up!

The buzzing stopped right at his back, and his skin seemed to react with a flash of heat just at the hairline. He could hear breathing that wasn't his, or the Mink's – low, heavy and controlled, it came from inches above his head – like that person was standing right up against him, looking down. His shoulders felt weighted by their presence, and his hair seemed to ruffle against the press of weight.

The stench hit Law moments later. It curled around his body and drifted up his skin, coating the back of his throat and his tongue. He choked on it, feeling a tickle build up and clutter his sinuses. He wanted to cough but his body felt paralyzed to even allow that. His eyes watered underneath his closed lids with the effort, and his teeth seemed to grind together with the effort to wake his body up. His mind was racing in circles – he felt like he was screaming for someone to wake him up, throat turning raw with effort.

But he heard his crew in the distance, happy and busy, and heard the crash of waves against metal. He heard seagulls crying in the distance – felt the repetitive action of the bear Mink breathing against his back while he unconsciously provided physical support.

Whatever it was standing behind him began to move – he felt the air shift with the pressure. He felt the cold weight of hands on his shoulders, fingers clenching tightly. Maybe he was just that tense – maybe he was feeling his own tension. Maybe he wasn't feeling anything at all – but those fingers closed almost painfully on his shoulders before moving slowly towards his neck. _He felt that_. He knew what that felt like, so he _felt_ it.

They slowly began to move over the straining tendons of his neck and over his throat – brushing against his Adam's Apple. He felt the intention of these fingers. He heard the rising rush of breath behind him. He could feel it atop of his head. He couldn't move to get away.

That heavy breathing began to drown out the sounds of his crew, and the wakeful world they were in. Once attuned to it, it was all he could hear. His skin shivered and flinched, and his limbs refused his panicked command to move. Every part of him want to move, wanted to guard himself against this invisible thing – he was not afraid of ghosts but this was something he couldn't explain.

The breathing stopped suddenly, and so did his panic.

For a few seconds, all he could hear was the sounds of his crew, and the peaceful movement of the sea. He thought for sure he'd just scared himself somehow – this was a natural side effect of sleep paralysis. It wasn't an alien feeling to him – he knew what this subject was about. He struggled to relax himself to concentrate on the concept in an effort to will himself out of it. It was a method he was used to.

Those fingers around his throat tightened so suddenly and strongly that it created a frightening sound from him as air was forced away. His entire body tightened, rendered paralyzed as his head tilted back, catching sight of the perfectly clear sky. Gulls swept around them frantically, calling out noisily and yet his veins were ice and his throat was tightly closed by some invisible vise.

The thing made a sound that was a combination of gurgling and clicking, furious noises that struggled to turn into words. All anger and insult gathered into one heaving snarl that was definitely inhuman. The gurgling noises turned to a high pitched scream that rattled his eardrums and sent ice through his veins.

All at once he shot to his feet, fully awake and breathing and choking at the same time. His crew's heads all snapped in his direction as he fought to breathe, standing unsteadily on legs that shook. He felt spittle and snot caught in his nasal cavities, and his throat felt violently wilted. His own hands reached up to touch tender areas as his crew hastily abandoned their poles and rushed to his aid. Their puzzled expressions turned horrified once they saw the point of injury.

Around his neck were red, violent splotches of color in the shape of fingers.

: :

Despite his protests, his crew decided to provide a watchful eye. He was exhausted, but damned if he was going to let this ruin his life. He was doing a good job of it on his own. Law reasoned that he'd choked himself trying to wake himself up. He was his only monster. But if his crew wanted to be helpful, he was going to use them. Maybe this thing was a thing they could catch as a real and true physical enemy, and not something from the back of his mind. The wounds around his neck caused some uncomfortable swelling that troubled his breathing but if he kept himself cool and calm – he'd be fine.

His eyes felt heavy once they dove beneath the surface for the night, and he'd retreated to his room – three of his crew members made their beds around his, with Bepo curling up next to him. They talked about light things, laughing and joking and he attempted conversation but he had to admit his mind was half on this thing terrorizing him in his sleep.

_It's just stress_, he assured himself as he made himself comfortable with his back to Bepo. Shachi and Penguin shared jokes on the floor while Bepo fell asleep in minutes, his snoring alerting the others to his watchfulness. The pair would entertain themselves with books and games throughout the night and force Bepo awake when it was his turn to take watch.

As Law settled against his pillows, he fought the urge to fall asleep as fast as Bepo had. But whether it was out of fear or uncertainty, he realized he was only delaying the inevitable.

_I'm not scared_, he scoffed to himself, shutting his eyes with disgruntled irritation. _I'll ask it questions._

Despite his exhaustion, he was slow to fall asleep. But the men's voices faded away slowly, lingering ever so slightly on his conscious as his body relaxed. In the midst of this, his body gave one last jerk that jolted all his limbs and forced his eyes wide open. He was dreaming, he realized, staring down the main corridor of the sub. All around him were shadows that seemed to shimmer with movement; expanding and tightening in the relative action of breath. His eyes darted around first, noticing these small details while his body was frozen in place.

He could hear Penguin and Shachi talking, but their voices were muffled – Law recognized he was standing outside his own bedroom door. The narrow corridor - with its tight fit and protruding metal surfaces, lightbulbs fizzing before dying out completely to reveal a mouth of darkness ahead of him – carried a hot air to it that made him think of a hot summer island. His skin instantly began to sweat, and he clumsily pulled at his t-shirt to fan himself. But something caught his attention – something about that darkness ahead of him – something wanted him to start walking.

That smell appeared once more. Law held his breath upon recognizing it, but it still dirtied his tongue and teeth with a thick texture. He closed his eyes with exasperation.

_I'm not afraid of ghosts. I don't believe in them_, he told himself firmly. _I am dreaming – this is_ stress.

Opening his eyes, he walked with confidence towards the darkness. It enveloped him like a hot hug – erasing all sound and light, filling his senses with mild alarm. He paused in mid-step, looking over his shoulder towards his room – the lingering light there was warm and inviting, the men's voices faded but yet echoing off the metallic surfaces. Their words and soft laughter were muffled, but the content distorted. He could even hear Bepo snoring.

Law clenched his teeth with apprehension before turning and walking further into the darkness, hearing only the sound of his own breath. Even his footsteps, normally loud and intrusive, were silent.

He had the thought that he was back under Cora-san's Silence mode. But it felt different. This silence was thick and suffocating, unlike the older man's protective gesture. It had that rotting, sweet smell within it that made him wince, feet faltering in mid-step. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw complete and utter darkness. So he paused there, unmoving, as his head swept from side to side; trying to urge away the drawing sensation of alarm.

Once he became aware of the breathing sound in the distance, Law glanced in that direction. The man's breath was slow and deliberate, and his skin shivered with apprehension – encouraging him to slowly cross his arms over his chest to clutch his own biceps. Feeling an expression of exasperation on his features, he flung his arms down and demanded, "Who is out there?"

The breathing continued without falter, but Law could swear it had grown distinctively louder. It seemed to be drawing nearer to him, and his skin started to prickle all over again. He couldn't help but shiver, eyes sweeping from side to side as he searched for something in the darkness to give him a clue of what was approaching him. He noticed a faint vibration at his bare feet – automatically looking down as the metal pathway vibrated ever so softly with someone's approach. He glanced up once more, straining to pull something from the darkness. He lifted his hand, to create a Room – but that light spindled out and fluttered away, causing him some puzzled shock as he looked down. He attempted it once more, feeling panicked as light flared and faded without any distinct shape. He looked up once more just in time to see the approach of a tall man.

_Cora_, he thought instinctively, tilting his head back ever so slightly as alarm, surprise and confusion raced through him. _It's Cora_!

_But he's dead_, he told himself on the same line, gritting his teeth. He saw the pictures. Sometimes those pictures woke him up, the images seared into his brain with too many awful smells and too clear of an image – sometimes he could feel the impression of Corazon's stiff body on his fingertips.

He froze as the shadow approached him.

That grin appeared slowly – breaking through the darkness with tines the likeness of corn before evening out into the shape of teeth. Law watched as the shadowy shape suddenly billowed out, expanding and pushing outward like the shadows "breathing" on the walls – turning into something bigger and bulbous as that grin lifted higher and higher at the corners. The smell was so thick that it made Law sick, clapping a hand over his mouth and nose as he reacted with startled terror at the thing that was taking shape in front of him. The darkness seemed to move around it before that grin separated into maniacal laughter – ringing up and down the hall and echoing off the metal surfaces in such a confusing fashion that it was difficult to pinpoint exactly where it was coming from.

The mouth lowered towards Law as its head came into focus, revealing a man's face with smaller men's heads protruding from its empty eye sockets. These smaller heads cried and screamed with panic and terror, spittle glistening from the corners of their mouth and tears wet over their cheeks. That yellowed grin lifted higher at the corners, revealing broken and shattered teeth that were mottled with cavity and decay, a broken tongue whipping from side to side.

That was all Law saw before he turned and raced back where he'd come from. He could hear the smaller heads screaming his name -the voices familiar – and that maniacal laughter chasing after him. He turned in horror to see the thing lumbering after him – its body bulbous with protruding eyeballs rotating in every direction. Some were milky-white, some were dark as night. Some spilled with glistening goo, others cracked with dry splits over the veins crawling around the irises. Its genitals whipped about wildly between its thick, shaking thighs, bare feet slapping the metal pathway.

The darkness didn't seem to end – it seemed to stretch and expand, and Law was racing fast to put distance between it and himself. The thing's arms jerked out from its grotesquely moving body, skeletal with long, pointed fingers. Skin flapped against the blackened bones, stretching and fluttering behind it as the thing laughed wildly.

"Wake me up!" Law shouted frantically, barely able to breathe. "_Wake me the fuck up_!"

When nothing seemed to happen, his breath just seemed to heave and shudder, catching in his throat, and he wasn't watching where he was going. He tripped over something in his path, catching himself before his face hit the floor. He whirled onto his back just to see that the thing was gone – the darkness gave him nothing of its presence. Heaving frantically, dizzy with the effort, Law found himself looking to see what he'd tripped over. There was a shape there near him, just barely touching his feet. He jerked his legs away from it, unsure of what it was.

His heart was pounding fiercely against his chest and his throat was sore from the effort of screaming. His skin was slick with sweat. He didn't even remember blinking. Steeling himself to breathing through his nose – _teeth clenched tight_ – Law waited for the thing at his feet to move. The silence was never-ending. Thick and charged, as if it itself was waiting for something to happen. When the pounding in his head started to subside, he could hear the hum of the submarine, and the metallic creaks and moans that happened as it usually did.

The darkness started to fade, allowing light back in. His crew's voices remerged as a tinny, distorted sound of muffled conversation from behind a closed door. The shape remained at his feet.

Law stared at it, forcing himself to blink as his eyes ached. He swallowed hard, pushing back with his hands to put more distance between himself and the shadowy shape. He couldn't tell what it was – it was just a lump of shapes. He realized it wasn't material, or a body – just a shimmering shadow that smelled strongly of that rotten stench that had bothered him for quite some time.

Frozen, Law couldn't even think. The world was back, but he was still dreaming. He could hear his snores alongside Bepo's. His jaw ached from clenching it so hard.

With another hard swallow, he reached out. His fingers shook, trembling violently over the mass that lay still in front of him. It was hot, vibrating with heat that pricked his skin and caused his palms to sweat. But he reached and watched his fingers disappear into inky darkness that felt like cold jelly.

The moment he registered this, the mass shot up to reveal Corazon; bloody, rigid, skin dripping like multi-colored ooze from his shattered skull. His smeared makeup did nothing to create the face that Law was used to – his blonde hair was matted with pieces of skull and brains, veins pumping enthusiastically at his temples.

"_Eat your bread, Law_," the corpse said cheerfully, in a voice merry with gentle chiding. The corpse then melted and fell apart against the metal pathway, hissing with all the heaviness of a man pushing air between its teeth.

Law screamed himself awake.


End file.
